


Slam Night at the Musain

by myrmidryad



Series: Ace Amis Week [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Ace Amis Week, Ace!Jehan, Ace!Éponine, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Demisexual Character, F/M, Multi, Past Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy/Jean Prouvaire, Poetry, Pre Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy/Éponine Thénardier, Slam Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:56:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrmidryad/pseuds/myrmidryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cosette is captivated by the woman on stage performing with Jehan.</p><p>Or: Jehan and Éponine are asexual slam poets, and demisexual couple Cosette and Marius fall in love fast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slam Night at the Musain

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell I've been watching a LOT of slam poetry lately? Does it show?

Slam poetry was growing on her. Really, it was impossible to be indifferent to any kind of poetry with Jehan as a friend, however new. But he’d invited them to slam night at the Musain and Cosette had dragged Marius along because an evening out was an evening out, and Courfeyrac would be there, so there was nothing to be worried about. 

(Courfeyrac had befriended Marius by accident, Cosette on purpose, and introduced both of them to Jehan because he thought they’d get on well. As usual, he’d been right.) 

The chatter in the café died as Jehan and a woman Cosette didn’t know walked onto the stage and started adjusting the microphones. Cosette leaned forward in her chair, eye immediately caught by the woman’s appearance – dyed hair in blue and purple with a shaved patch on the left side, oversized soft-looking sweater, patchwork leggings and huge combat boots. 

She had this problem where she tended to fall head-over-heels in love with anyone who caught her eye like that, and she smiled to herself – usually those ‘anyones’ were people she passed on the street, so she could only get a quick look at them. She was looking forward to being able to observe this woman for a solid few minutes while she and Jehan performed. 

The pair of them finished adjusting the microphones and the woman stamped the wooden stage once to secure the room’s attention. They stood side-by-side with their heads down for a long moment, and then at some shared signal, they snapped their heads up and spoke at the same time. 

“Have you ever cried in frustration because all you wanted was a hug?” 

“I’m angry,” Jehan spat. 

“I’m sad,” the woman said. 

“I want to rip someone’s head off.” 

“I want to cry for days at a time.” 

Together – “Have you ever been too scared to let someone get close to you in case they expect too much?” 

The woman smiled, and she was suddenly transformed into someone young and innocent. “When he laughed at something I’d said I felt like an angel.” 

“A god,” Jehan interjected. 

“Like I’d hung the moon,” she continued, “and everything was beautiful because here was someone who _got_ me. Who _loved_ me. But at what point do you say, I’m sorry, I’m not really –” 

“I’m not that into –” 

“I don’t actually –” 

“Can we just –” 

“Can we not –” 

“Wait!” they shouted at the same time, hands coming up as if reaching for someone and then lowering slowly as they frowned. “Why are you leaving?” 

Jehan gazed out at the audience and asked, “At what point in the evening do you casually slip into the conversation that you’re asexual?” 

The woman clutched at her arms. “Have you ever pulled your legs up to your chest and held them with arms that shake and hands that quake and fingers that clutch at your skin like claws that would peel you open like an orange –” 

“A peach –” 

“An overripe fruit –” 

Jehan twisted his expression into a sneer. “ _Begging_ to be eaten, you _tease_ , _asking_ for it –” 

“Because all you wanted was a hug?” the woman asked, and Jehan’s face went back to normal as he took up the next line. 

“Have you ever gotten yourself into something you can’t get out of?” 

“Letting it fester and ooze like a tumour you can’t remove because it’s an organic part of you,” the woman fisted her hand over her chest, tugging at the wool of her jumper. “Something inside of you, inescapable, inseparable, inoperable.” 

“Part of the problem,” Jehan said softly. 

“Part of the solution.” 

“A fucked-up equation,” they said together, desperate, “where you’re both in love but you can’t make them happy because they want what you can’t give.” 

“I would if I could,” the woman cried. 

“Why aren’t I enough for you?” Jehan shouted. 

“Can’t we just be happy?” 

“You know I don’t want to!” 

“Please don’t be angry –” 

“Don’t _touch_ me!” they screamed together, recoiling in tandem. 

Jehan stretched his hands out, begging. “Hold me.” 

“Don’t fuck me,” the woman whispered. 

“Love me.” 

“Love me.” 

Together – “ _Love me_. I’m not doing this to punish you! This has nothing to _do_ with you!” 

“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Jehan demanded. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not!” 

“It seems to me,” they said as one, “that I’ve been apologising my whole life.” 

“Sorry for taking up space,” the woman glared at the audience. 

“Sorry for wasting your time,” Jehan snorted. 

“Sorry for being alive.” 

“Sorry for not putting out.” 

She crossed her arms and sneered. “If you’re not gonna deliver, why the fuck did you come here?” 

“Believe me,” Jehan rolled his eyes and they continued together. 

“Anything you’ve got to say, I’ve heard it all before and then some.” 

They both assumed expressions of wide-eyed fascination and the woman gaped at the audience. “Are you like, a robot?” 

“Can’t you feel _anything?_ ” Jehan gasped. 

“Have you even tried?” 

“Can’t you get it up?” Jehan raised his eyebrows suggestively. 

The woman laughed derisively. “And my all-time favourite –” 

“Asexual?” they both said, squinting. “Isn’t that something to do with plants?” 

A pause while a ripple of laughter went through the audience, and Jehan spoke first, quiet and restrained. “I’m not a machine.” 

“I’m not an alien.” 

“I’m as human as you are,” they said together. 

“I still want to connect,” she said. 

“I still might want kids.” 

Together – “Just because I don’t want sex, it doesn’t make me a freak. Have you ever been ashamed of something you _shouldn’t_ be ashamed of?” 

“Hidden the signs and played pretend.” The woman mimed painting a fake smile on her face. 

“Studied ‘normal’ people to copy them.” 

“To better fit in.” 

“To better convince.” 

“I’m choking.” 

“I’m drowning.” 

“Sinking.” 

“Falling.” 

“Crumbling.” 

“Coming apart at the seams.” Jehan spread his arms out wide, fingers trembling. 

“ _Failing_ ,” they said together, seeming to deflate a little. 

“There’s only so far you can go,” she said. 

“There’s only so much you can take –” 

“– before fake becomes faked to a point you can’t take back,” they warned. 

“Better to retract,” Jehan said, curling into himself. 

“Better to be cold,” she agreed, pulling away from the microphone warily.

“Unbreakable.” 

“Unbreachable.” 

Together – “Untouchable.” 

“But I want to be touched,” Jehan whispered. 

“Be careful,” she cautioned him. 

“I want to be wanted.” 

“You’ll get hurt.” 

“I want to be loved.” 

“It’s your funeral.” 

“The tragedy of the romantic asexual,” they proclaimed, mocking. “Forever wanting something we’re told we can’t have unless we become someone we’re not.” 

“My integrity isn’t worth this pain!” she shouted. 

“But doesn’t love involve sacrifice?” 

“Your loss is my gain!” 

“If this will make you happy,” Jehan smiled helplessly. 

“I don’t need you anyway!” she snarled. 

“If it means you’ll stay,” he shrugged, sad. 

“Have you ever been told in unquestionable terms by every voice you’ve ever heard,” they said together, “that you’ll die alone?” 

“That your love is invalid unless you prove it,” he said. 

“A thousand messages on the TV every day.” She shook her head. 

“With awkward contortions and breath caught between you.” Jehan gestured with his hands, expression miserable. 

“Hundreds of adverts flashing in my face.” 

“Uncomfortable intimacy, embarrassing sensations.” 

“The reason for living, the promise of a cure –” 

Together, furious – “You’re worth nothing if you don’t conform. Love isn’t love unless you’re both getting fucked! I just wanted a _hug!_ ” 

Jehan sighed. “I guess poetry isn’t enough.” 

“I knew it wouldn’t last.” She shook her head bitterly. “It never does.” 

“Another failure.” 

“Another addition to the wall of shame.” 

“Another addition to the wall of pain.” 

They reached up and traced circles in the air as they spoke together. “The ever-turning cycle of loss verses gain where I never seem to gain, always crushed under the wheel.” 

“Society has no respect for a man who doesn’t conquer with his dick,” Jehan sneered. 

“Unending contempt for a woman who doesn’t just lie back and take it,” she matched his expression. 

“The anomaly in the equation,” they said together. “The robotic human.” 

“The romantic asexual!” the woman shouted, gesturing to Jehan like a circus ringleader. “Step right up, step right up, come see the show! Observe as he gives his heart out but withholds his body!” Jehan stared out into the café unblinkingly. “Marvel at his inability to feel sexual attraction! Laugh at the awkward situations, the string of disappointments, the continuing humiliations! The romantic asexual – condemned and caged for all to see.” 

A pause, and the woman mirrored Jehan’s stiff expression before they spoke. “I don’t want to be cured. I just want to be loved.” 

“Is that so much to ask?” she implored. 

Jehan looked down. “I just wanted a hug.” 

“But you won’t understand,” they said. “I don’t think you ever did.” They shrugged. “It’s okay.” 

“I’ll try again.” She tilted her chin up. 

“Maybe next time I won’t have to pretend.” 

Together – “Maybe next time if I ask for a hug, I’ll get one without any strings attached.” 

“Here’s to hoping,” Jehan smiled. 

“Here’s to trying.” 

“Here’s to picking yourself up and not crying,” they said. “Have you ever let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding when you wanted a hug…and you got one?” 

There was a long pause, and then someone at the back let out a loud whoop and suddenly everyone was clapping and whistling. Cosette was light-headed and breathless, palms stinging from applauding so hard, and she gazed unblinkingly at the woman as she and Jehan grinned at each other and sloped off the stage, making way for the next poet. 

Cosette couldn’t stay focused on the rest of the poetry, and immediately after the last poet had performed she jumped out of her seat and started looking for Jehan. Marius was over with Courfeyrac at the bar, so she couldn’t take advantage of his height and get him to look, and it took longer than she’d expected to locate Jehan over by the stage. 

“You were brilliant!” she gushed, latching onto his arm and making him laugh. “Who was your partner?” 

“Oh, I see,” Jehan teased. “You’re just using me for my contacts.” 

Cosette squeezed his arm and pouted. “Je _han_.” 

He laughed again and beckoned someone over. “Her name’s Éponine, and…this is her. Éponine, Cosette, Cosette, Éponine.” 

Cosette beamed as Éponine stuck her hand out with a, “Hi.” 

“You were amazing,” she said, shaking her hand enthusiastically. “Did you write it together?” 

Jehan kissed Éponine’s cheek and grinned. “See you later?” 

“Sure,” she replied, hesitating before turning back to Cosette. “Um, yeah, we did. It was mostly him though, I mean, I’m not much of a poet.” 

“What do you do then?” Cosette shifted a little closer to make room for someone walking behind her. 

“You mean my job? I’m an interpreter.” 

“An interpreter?” 

“For the deaf,” Éponine clarified. “I…do sign language.” She gestured with her hands and Cosette’s breathe caught in her throat. 

“Wow, that’s amazing. How long did it take you to learn?” 

Éponine smiled. “A while. What about you?” 

“Nowhere near as interesting.” Cosette pulled a face. “Just a boring office job.” She bit her lip, then leaned closer and said, “This probably sounds really forward, but do you want to get a drink?” 

Éponine stared at her. “I…now?” 

Cosette nodded hopefully. “If you want, I mean, you don’t have to.” 

“No, I’d like to,” Éponine said, and smiled, surprised but pleased. Cosette’s heart fluttered and she beamed. 

“Fantastic. Shall we get a table, or…this is the first time I’ve been here,” she confessed, and Éponine laughed. 

“Yeah, you had the look. Come on, there’s a booth over here.” 

As they wound their way through the still-crowded café, Cosette kept a look out for Marius and managed to spot him on the other side of the bar. With a wave, she caught his eye and beckoned him over excitedly. He rolled his eyes but nodded, and she turned to meet Éponine’s curious gaze. 

“Marius,” Cosette explained as they sat down. “He’s my boyfriend.” 

“Oh.” Éponine frowned, withdrawing, and Cosette hastened to reassure her. 

“No, I mean, I still want…ugh, I’m sorry, this is easier to explain when we’re both here.” 

“Yeah?” Éponine leaned back in her chair, unimpressed. “I’m not having a threesome with you, just so you know.” 

“Oh, no, that’s not what –” Cosette broke off with a grimace. “Sorry, I’m really messing this up, I’m so sorry. Marius and I aren’t…I mean, we’re demisexual, if that helps? I figured you were ace, right? Like Jehan?” 

Éponine frowned, but nodded. “Uh huh. I mean, yeah, I am.” 

“Cool.” Cosette relaxed. “God, I’m making such an idiot of myself, I’m sorry. I just assumed you were because you said you wrote it together. What was it called, by the way?” 

“We never decided on a title,” Éponine admitted, just as Marius appeared at their table and started gaping at her. 

“It’s you!”

Éponine stared back, a shocked smile spreading across her face. “Hi.” 

Cosette leaned forward and tugged Marius into the spare seat. “You know each other?” she asked, thrilled. 

“No, we haven’t…” Marius trailed off, and Cosette connected the dots instantly – he’d mentioned seeing a beautiful girl working in the Musain the last couple of times he’d come in. 

“He gets coffee here sometimes,” Éponine said, still smiling. “We’ve never really spoken.” 

“And you both noticed each other,” Cosette concluded, squeezing her hands together under the table. This might go better than she’d thought. 

“I guess,” Éponine nodded. Marius ducked his head, shy, and Cosette giggled. 

“That’s amazing. It’s fate.” 

“Your poem was brilliant,” Marius told Éponine, and her smile widened. 

“Thanks. So you two are…?” She looked between them and Cosette jumped in. 

“We’re together, but, well…” She glanced at Marius and smiled helplessly. “I saw you, and Marius has seen you, and…” It was always difficult explaining their unconventional relationship situation to strangers. 

“Would you like…” Marius faltered. “I mean, if. Um. Are you single?” 

Éponine laughed, purplish hair falling across her face. “You want to _date_ me? What, both of you?” 

“We’ve done it before,” Cosette offered. 

“Oh yeah?” Éponine didn’t look offended or annoyed, she was relieved to see. More amused than anything. “How did that go?” 

Cosette looked at Marius and he shrugged, leaning forward to speak. “Jehan decided we didn’t really fit.” 

Éponine’s jaw dropped. “You’re _them?_ ” 

Marius frowned. “Who?” 

“Oh my God, you are.” Éponine covered her mouth with her hand and stifled a giggle. “You’re the starry couple Jehan wrote about for like, a solid month, holy shit. Well now I feel like I know a lot more about you.” 

“Jehan wrote _poetry_ about us?” Marius sounded delighted and Cosette flicked his shoulder, grinning. 

“Jehan writes poetry about what he has for breakfast. How are you surprised by this news?” she teased, and then fixed Éponine with a mock-serious look. “But seriously, can you steal these for us? I’m dying to know what he wrote.” 

Éponine laughed right from the pit of her stomach, shoulders shaking with it, and that was it. They talked animatedly as people began to leave around them, telling each other about themselves and their lives. Marius and Éponine talked for several minutes about the differences between learning a language in sign and in speech, and the differences between languages in sign language compared to spoken and written language. Cosette told Éponine about her (relatively successful) fashion and style blog, pleased when Éponine didn’t dismiss it as frivolous or vain, and Éponine told them about her younger siblings (Azelma, twenty-five, and Gavroche, twenty), and the strangest and funniest interpreting jobs she’d had. 

“Oi!” Courfeyrac shouted over, almost two hours later. “You guys coming?” 

The Musain was almost empty, and Cosette laughed at the shocked expressions on Éponine’s and Marius’ faces. “Come on,” she said, getting up. 

“Can we do this again?” Marius asked Éponine as they exited the café, pulling their coats around them. Éponine looped a ragged-looking scarf around her neck and nodded, smiling. 

“Yeah, I’d like that. You want my number?” 

“Definitely,” Cosette smiled. “May I –?” She gestured to Éponine’s phone, and Éponine handed it over with only the slightest hesitation. “This is Marius’ number,” Cosette said, typing it in and hitting ‘call’. The Pokémon theme started blasting from Marius’ pocket and he cursed under his breath. Éponine raised an eyebrow. 

“Really?” 

“Courfeyrac keeps changing it,” he muttered. 

“Because you won’t change your password,” Cosette reminded him. 

“If I did, I’d forget it!” 

“You’re useless. I love you, but you’re useless.” She reached up to pat his head and grinned when she saw Éponine smile out of the corner of her eye. “Anyway, now you have Éponine’s number. And this…” she typed in her own and called it. “Is mine,” she handed the phone back to Éponine as her own started ringing. 

“No cool TV theme?” Éponine pretended to pout at the standard tone coming from Cosette’s bag. “How disappointing.” 

“I have to be professional,” Cosette protested, pulling it out and saving the number. “Which way are you going?” 

“This way,” Éponine stepped backwards, smiling crookedly. “You’re going with Courfeyrac, right?” 

“Yeah.” Marius looked behind them at Courfeyrac, tactfully keeping his distance (for once). “We’ll see you around?” 

“Probably tomorrow, if you decide to get another coffee,” she teased. 

Marius brightened. “I’m looking forward to it.” 

“Now you’re just making me jealous,” Cosette told them, but she wriggled happily when Éponine smiled at her. 

“I’ll see you, then.” 

There was a moment’s pause, and then Cosette rolled her eyes and moved forward, closing the distance quickly to hug her. “Soon, I hope,” she said against Éponine’s beautiful hair, and Marius caught her hand as she stepped back, too shy to follow her lead. Éponine laughed and nodded, and after she’d turned away she cast a look over her shoulder that only Cosette saw. 

She’d have to remember to thank Jehan with a bunch of flowers next time she saw him. Several bunches of flowers.

**Author's Note:**

> This may be riddled with mistakes I can't see because I wrote this in a real hurry. Ace Amis Week is only one week long! ...unsurprisingly. Anyway, if you see any mistakes, please point them out so I can fix them!
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please consider [buying me a coffee!](https://ko-fi.com/A221HQ9) <3


End file.
